


Stay Here With Me

by Hail_Americas_Ass



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Creepy Brock Rumlow, Gay Bucky Barnes, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Murder, Mutual Pining, New Year's Kiss, Omega Bucky Barnes, Peggy Carter Kicks Ass, Protective Steve Rogers, Rumlow is an overall asshole, Scenting, Secrets, Size Difference, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Strangers to Lovers, Top Steve Rogers, Violence, War Veteran Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:53:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29798400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hail_Americas_Ass/pseuds/Hail_Americas_Ass
Summary: Steve returns from war, PTSD has decided to become a constant companion much to his dismay. The only thing stopping him from joining his sister in death is his neighbor. But Bucky has secrets of his own... Will it destroy the love they have or bring them closer than ever before?
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

Bucky is back at his apartment now, jabbing his keys into the lock, turning and entering over the threshold. He had just moved to Brooklyn, because of a-- um _situation_. He unceremoniously dumped his bag on his couch before looking expectantly for his sleek snow white cat, Alpine. However, no matter where he looked, Alpine couldn't be found, after further investigation, he discovers that the vent between him and his neighbours apartment had been damaged leaving a cat sized hole for Alpine to slip through.

Bucky sighs heavily, he wasn't aware of his neighbours daily schedules, so he has no idea when his neighbour will be back.

He decides to soothe his aching migraine by crossing to his bookshelf and running his finger across the spines of his numerous books before sliding his choice from the shelf and settling down to read on a beanbag in the corner of his living room. Bucky must have fell into a doze because he is suddenly awoken by a series of muffled colourful profanities drifting through the wall separating him and his neighbour, a door closes in the hall, footsteps march to his door and three knocks echo throughout his apartment, he and his neighbour are the only people on this floor so it could only be them.

Bucky reluctantly rises to his feet on slightly shaking knees a few moments later, stretching out the muscles in his shoulders. Padding silently on tiptoed feet, he ambles to the door while avoiding the creaking floorboards out of habit, his nose picks up the scent of an alpha, the smell of warm tea and drying paint and something he can't quite put a finger on, the last scent makes him hesitate for a few moments before easing the door open to reveal...

_Oh w_ _ow._

Tousled golden locks, sharply chiseled chin and ocean blue eyes are staring back at his own, Bucky's sleek white cat smugly cradled gently in the blondes arms arms like a new-born child. _Wow_. Bucky had expected his new neighbour to be an ancient cat lady, certainly not a greek adonis. He snaps back to reality.

"Oh good, you found Alpine, there's a hole in the vent connecting our apartments so I was going to come and ask if you had seen her but then I fell asleep... I'm _really_ sorry-- she keeps dissapearing like this but I don't want to shut her in a cage... how did you even manage to get her out?" He tries to explain the situation hastily, Bucky can _feel_ his eyes on him. For a few moments he thinks the blonde man is angry, cringing slightly while he braces for impact out of habit, but then a small smile graces the blondes lips, sad deep blue eyes crinkling slightly in amusement, he lifts Alpine and places her into Bucky's arms before answering.

"It's okay," he says timidly, "Alpine is welcome in my apartment anytime since she's already made herself home there."

And with one last sad smile, the blonde is gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well guys I have finally decided to publish another chapter! Schools a bit hectic so updates are going to be slow. Also suicide attempt warning!

Blue.  
_/blu:/_

_1\. of a colour intermediate between green and violet, as of the sky or sea on a sunny day._

_2\. (of a person or mood) melancholy, sad, or depressed._

Blue.

A wonderful colour.

_"Natasha run! Keep going!"_

_A spray of bullets bit into the sand and snapped at our ankles like rabid dogs, barely missing. Crimson blood poured down the side of my face like a river of blood and rolled down my cheek but I paid no notice. A metallic taste poisoned my tongue, another wave of bullets rained down on us, a man on my right fell with a heavy thump and another on my left quickly followed suit. Soldiers fell like chains of dominoes. My senses were on overdrive, my boots pounded into the sand. A bullet whistled through the air and embedded itself into my calf, a choked scream tore from my throat as the pain raced up my leg..._

Commotion outside in the hallway startles Steve out of his flashback, adrenaline thunders through his veins, making him hyper-alert of a possible asailant, his eyes automatically dart around the room searching for potential weapons: a pen to stab, a book to block... before he realises that he's back at home, in his apartment, safe and sound. No IEDs. No explosions. No guns. No enemy. No death. He's ok... apparently.

At least that's what Sam, his therapist, tells him 15 times each session.

" _You'll never be safe,"_ a nasty voice in his head tells him _._

"Shut up," he snaps firmly.

 _"You know we're right,"_ another voice chimes in. He ignores them and stirs his steaming cup of coffee while gazing emptily at the white tendrils snaking upwards from the cup, vaporizing into the air of his apartment. It was always cold in here, not that he minds anymore. You get used to it.

_"We have a man down! I repeat! Man down!"_

_The rattling sound of gunfire which was followed by screams of both soldiers and civilians alike tainted the air, a woman sat against a building wall whimpering as she craddled her dead child in her arms, rivers streaming down both of her cheeks._

_"We need backup here!"_

But will he _ever_ be _okay_ again? After what happened?

His breathing calms slightly and his heart steadily slows its thundering rythm in his chest. A ball of blue yarn lies at his feet, a pair of knitting needles kneatly placed beside it. Steve's hand trembles as it collects the needles and the ball of yarn off of the floor to start knitting.

_W_ _h_ _at used to be a row of neat houses lay piles of calcined brick and disintegrated furniture, plumes of sand and dust engulfed the wreckage._

He can't do this anymore.

He discards the knitting needles and pushes himself up from the plush, comfortable warmth of the cushions. He makes himself busy, hurtling across the apartment, snatching up his coat, boots and hat, slipping them on as he bursts through the front door. He sprints like the wind down the stairwell of the apartment complex, bumping into a person as he hastily climbs up towards his destination.

• • •

  
Did you know that the colour blue activates a chemical in your brain which calms you? It's not working for Steve at the moment. His heart is pounding in his ears, throwing itself against his ribs, beating so fast as if it knows that its hosts time left alive was limited and was trying to fulfill the number of beats that would have been needed for an entire lifetime. His breathing is ragged, each breath drags rattling unwilling oxygen into his lungs.

His favourite colour is blue. It always has been, ever since he was a child. It was the colour of his first school uniform, it was the the colour of the first scarf he ever knit for his sister, it was the colour of his graduation robes. The suit he wore to his mothers funeral was blue. Many people think that black should be the customary colour for mourning, but they don't know what black symbolizes. Black symbolizes death. Blue symbolizes sadness. Blue symbolizes loyalty. Loyalty that swears you'll never forget their memory.

Let me ask you something... how would you _prefer_ to die?

I'm quite sure the thought of flinging yourself off of a building into the dark murky abyss of death didn't cross your mind. Steve glances down at both his numb fingers locked tightly on to the railing behind him and then down at his feet, the height is perilously dizzying but also perilously beautiful, forteen floors act as a feeble barricade between him and the ground. Cars the size of ants crawl along tarmac ribbons that weave in and out and around the buildings, the side walks where people will be walking home are currently carpeted with a thin blanket of powdery pure white snow.

He's scared, but he's not. Does that make sense?

Blue.

That's the colour of the sky at the moment. A deep inky blue blanket littered with diamonds that wink and twinkle at him, candy floss clouds as pure white as the snow blanketing the rooftop he is standing on crawl across the sky. He used to stargaze with his sister Grace, they would pull out the sunbeds from the garden shed and lay on them, counting the meteors zipping across the sky, or pointing out the creative constellations embellishing the darkness. His sister had countless constellations of freckles of her paper pale face, the most prominent cluster was located around her nose, they joked and called it the Milky Way Galaxy. His sisters favourite colour was blue. His sister is dead now.

" _It was yo_ _ur fault,"_ the voice reminds him, and Steve can't help but agree.

She stepped on a landmine. He was there with her.

Memories and thoughts zoom through his mind at the speed of light, demanding his attention and inevitably succeeding.

They had enlisted and trained together with their friends Natalia and Alexei, they just wanted to serve their country. They were deployed to Afganistan. Where Grace would pay the ultimate price. It was just another reconaissance mission, a get in and get out. Nothing they hadn't done a thousand times before.

When he was honourably discharged he wasn't expecting any side effects to my daring adventures of running into the face of danger, but there _was_ a side effect, something he was too heartbroken to realise. PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. A side effect of adventure.

Blue.

Nightmares infest his mind like a contagious deadly disease, flashes of gunfire, the enemy torturing him for months before he was rescued, explosions ripping through the air and his sisters last smile will wake him from my sleep, the blankets twisted around my body and restraining my limbs like a straight jacket, he jerks awake drenched in sweat, as if someone has thrown a bucket of water over him. Loud noises and sudden movements in public will startle him, a flash of bright light will trigger his immediate instintive response of 'fight or flight'.

Adventure is not so great when there are side effects.

Blue.

He hopes someone will wear something blue for his funeral too, not that there's anyone _left_ in his family except for his frail grandmother who doesn't remember him to be present. He imagines Grace, alive and well, at his funeral, a blue tear will leak from her piercing blue eyes that he greatly admired all his life and trek down her cheek. He hopes the sky will be blue. He hopes the flowers they leave on his grave will be blue. A colour of loyalty. Loyalty that they'll never forget his memory. He wishes his sweet sister to be the one to wear something blue.

But she's dead. Because of him.

His numb frigid fingers unlatch themselves from the railing and he prepares to let himself fall forward. He imagines the wind whistling in his ears as he plummets to the ground and hurtles like a meteor to the sidewalk.

Adventure is not so great when there are side effects.

A wonderful colour.

Blue.

The door to the roof behind me bursts open with such force it bounces off the wall with a loud bang.

"Wait! _Stop!_ Don't do it!"

He snaps his head round to face the voice, nearly losing grip on the freezing railing as he does so. He wobbles and regains his position, precariously perched on the ledge. Familiar steel blue eyes wide with panic greet his lucid ocean blue ones, chestnut locks of hair flops down onto the mans forehead, the way his chest rises and falls rapidly and his puffy breaths show that he must have run up the stairwell to get to him, he's doubled over with his right hand poised in the air in a peaceful gesture. The mans scent invades his nose, he smells like vanilla and freshly brewed coffee and new books and... home.

"Don't jump. Please."

He stands straight, he's very short, probably 5'9, thin arms and legs, and _beautiful_ eyes. He cautiously approaches Steve, timid footsteps gliding across the tiled roof. "Leave me alone," Steve says firmly, his breath condensing into a steamy cloud in the freezing air. The other mans steel blue orbs bore into Steve's, gaze so sharp that they feel as though they pierce through him. He finds himself transfixed by the colour, the exact shade and how thin streaks of pewter grey stripe through the blue, like the iron remains of a ship on an ocean floor. Stop. You're here to commit suicide. Not fall in love.

Did I just say _fall in love?_ Nope. Definitely not.

He's so distracted by his thoughts that he doesn't realise that the brunette had continued approaching him and was now within arms reach. Shaking his head, he snaps back to reality.

"Leave me alone," he repeats, but this time, the strength in his voice falters. He feels small, like when he was being tortured; no courage left to fight back and no strength left to keep going.

"No _(_ _stubborn idiot),_ you need help. How do you think your family would feel about losing you?"

"They're all dead," his eyes start to sting as tears accumulate rapidly, his arms shaking and the voices in his head start screaming at him to jump but... he can't because he's trapped in those deep blue eyes.

 _"Do it!"_ The voices yell. This time, he listens. He lets go of the railing before the blonde can reply, his body just nearly tips over the edge when Steve feels _his_ arms wrap around his body and pulling him forcfully back onto the rooftop. As if his limbs were acting on instinct, his arms wrapped around the smaller mans body and _let_ the brunette drag him back. The brunette stops pulling him once they were a good distance away from the railings, by now the tears have started to flow and won't stop, now he's outright sobbing. The brunette sweeps a warm hand up and down his back comfortingly, his scent enveloping Steve in a cocoon of vanilla, coffee, paper and securing him in a sense of _home_.

Steve pulls away reluctantly, "who are you? I swear I've seen you before."

The other man sheepishly rubs the back of his neck before responding, "I'm Bucky-- your neighbour on your floor. We met when my cat-- Alphine-- managed to break into your apartment a few weeks ago and you had to retrieve her. I noticed that you weren't thinking right when you bumped into me on the stairwell so, um-- I followed you."

Steve nods. None of the pair speak, akwardness solidifying the air while they think of a way forward. Bucky speaks first, grasping his attention again, "I'll walk you back. Make sure you won't do anything stupid."

The trip down to Steve's door is executed in silence, Bucky has just turned to leave when Steve speaks up, his voice still clogged with tears, "thank you Bucky."

Bucky side glances Steve, he smiles kindly, "it's okay. Just don't do anthing stupid."

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you," Steve counters good naturely.

A low chuckle escapes Bucky and with that, the beautiful brunette is gone.

•••

Few days later

Shrill ringing from his doorbell echoes throughout Steve's apartment, he trudges dejectedly to the door. He eases it open gingerly and to his suprise, Bucky is standing there. He is standing awkwardly, shifting his weight from one leg to the other while a blush swifly dusts his cheeks and creeps under his shirt. 

  
"Hi."

"Hello. Um- I know this is a horrible time and situation to ask but- I was wondering we could meet sometime for coffee or something?" A darker blush dusts his cheeks and ears again as he says so, theres hope in his steel blue eyes.

Is he suprised? Yes. Is he saying no? Hell no. "Okay. Monday morning at the Starbucks down the street?"

"Monday morning it is."

  
Bucky flashes him a gentle smile before turning to walk away with a slight skip in his step, and Steve closes the door.

Needless to say, it was a pretty good end to a pretty horrible week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I have no idea when the next update will be so bare with me... Have a good day morning, night, evening or whenever this chapter reaches you!


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